


Somnambulist

by electricblueninja



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, Homin - Fandom
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Sharing beds, somnambulist Changmin, squishy Yunho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-28 00:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2711594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricblueninja/pseuds/electricblueninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Changmin sleepwalks. Yunho doesn't sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somnambulist

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I only own my imagination. Sweet sweet dreams.

From the rustling, I knew he was taking his clothes off again.

 

Life hates me.

 

I lay as still as I could, trying not to listen, but the harder I tried not to listen, the louder the rustling seemed in the still, dark, moonlit heat of our hotel room.

 

He made a couple of muffled grumbling noises, and then, thankfully, the rustling ceased.

 

But now I knew he was in some state of undress, and that made it fucking hard to go to sleep.

 

I rolled over onto my side, facing away from him, and took a couple of slow, deep breaths, willing myself to relax. It almost worked, too, except that I was jerked back into consciousness when the springs of his mattress creaked, and a telltale shuffle informed me he was on his feet.

 

I rolled over to see if he was awake or not, and he was standing there between our twin beds, his eyes closed and his long, lean torso glistening with sweat.

 

At least he’d only taken his shirt off.

 

But his boxer-briefs were thin and tight and clinging, the effect only enhanced by his perspiration.

 

Singapore summer sucks.

 

He began to shuffle around the room with the strangely unhesitant strides of a sleepwalker, and I rolled over again, averting my gaze and suppressing the well of desire uncoiling in my gut. Changmin’s sleepwalking wasn’t unusual. I’d just let him do whatever; he’d take himself back to bed eventually.

 

He wandered back into view, though, walking over towards the window and pausing to stretch, the moonlight making his lean, muscular body gleam and glow, pale except for his long black hair and the dark cloth clinging to the hard curves of his tiny ass.

 

Then he turned back towards me, and in a couple of strides he was on my bed, settling in like he meant to stay.

 

I just lay there, trying to stay as still as possible, remembering that you should never wake someone sleepwalking. I wondered how he’d react if he woke up here by himself, in the morning. 

 

He’d probably never even notice that we’d mysteriously switched beds in the night: there’s about a full hour of every morning in which Changmin can barely function, let alone remember tiny details like where he’s originally fallen asleep the night before. As long as it had been a bed, he’d never notice the difference. But just as I was about to get up, a hot, heavy leg dropped over my torso, and I knew I’d missed my chance.

 

I flushed at the contact: I couldn’t help it. His skin was hot, and the downy hair of his calf tickled where it brushed against the back of my thigh.

 

He wriggled forward, pressing his chest against me and throwing an arm over my shoulders, and I held my breath, terrified that even my breath on his face might wake him. He was so close; so close and so serene, his big lips curved into a happy sleeping smile as he clung to me like an oversized koala.

 

I kept my hands to myself, trying desperately not to feel the way his nipples hardened against my chest when his bare skin came into contact with the rough cotton of my singlet. I had to move one of my hands, which was resting low, perilously close to his crotch, and the movement made him shudder, a wave of gooseflesh passing over his skin. His eyelids fluttered, and for a moment I thought I might have woken him. He’d freak out if that happened. He’d probably punch me. Which, to be fair, I would probably deserve. Not for tonight, but for the considerable amount of time I  had spent perving on him, even if I tried to do it in a covert way – or maybe doing it covertly was worse.

 

The guilt burned hotter than the humidity as I allowed my forearm to rest against his side, my fingertips resting against the firm curve of his back.

 

But he just murmured something in his sleep – sounded like ‘no, hyung, really’, followed by ‘black bean noodles’ – and tightened his grip on me.

 

I didn’t sleep a wink that night.

 

And Changmin never let go of me.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me if you laughed or cried.


End file.
